The Luckiest

18

She was tired. She was exhausted. She hadn't slept wll in the last few nights and was probably feeling kind of like Derek did all the time. Derek. Derek who had just gotten divorced when she met him. Derek who definitely had more baggage than she knew how to handle. He was divorced. As in had been married and somehow it had ended in the worst way possible.

It made sense. Suddenly, it all made sense. Why he couldn't date her. Why he was so...broken. Why he didn't even want to talk about the issues. That all made sense. But it was still huge. He had been married. Married to a woman who he had loved, and who had loved him. And who was apparently Satan's whore, whatever that meant. This was huge.

She knew she probably should have talked to him more. Running hadn't been the best. Because he was divorced and that had to have some kind of story behind it. He had promised he would talk and she probably should have stayed around. But she couldn't. That had been entirely huge. Too too too huge and she had needed to run, to leave and get out of there. To think.

Except the thinking thing wasn't working out so great for her. Well, it was. All she did was think. Which explained the extreme lack of sleep over the past three nights. Thinking generally prevented sleeping which then led to her being very, very tired. So she probably should have stayed. There probably would be less to think about if she had stayed. "Grey!"

"Sloan," Meredith groaned. "Or Mark. Sloan. Mark. What do I call you now?"

"I'm sure you'll come up with something," he shrugged. "I've heard your friends are great at coming up with nicknames. What is it they call me?"

"McSteamy."

"That one works," Mark chuckled.

"Derek's McDreamy," Meredith sighed. "Or maybe now it's McDivorced."

"Which would make him McAvailable," Mark nodded and then frowned. "Sorry, Grey, it's a little lame."

"What's a little lame?"

"The Mc shit," he shrugged. "And you. But that's a whole other story."

"Me?"

"You," Mark nodded. "What's up with the freaking out and running?"

"What? I didn't...it's just...you...he..." she murmured. "He's divorced."

"Good job there, Grey, glad you know how to listen."

"What?"

"Yes, Shep is divorced. I'm not seeing the problem here. I personally have been celebrating for the past two months."

"Well ummm....what are you celebrating?"

"The disappearance of Satan's Whore," Mark shrugged. "It's about damn time he got rid of her."

"Okay...umm...as great as that is....it's baggage. He was married and now he's...broken. Really broken. With baggage."

"I told you once, Grey, it's not baggage. It's Satan's Whore."

"It's baggage. A divorce is baggage."

"What the hell is the matter with baggage?" he frowned.

"I have baggage. A lot of baggage. I don't need his. And he doesn't need mine."

Mark sighed and stared at her for a second, leaning against a wall. "Shep likes you, Grey. That probably means he likes your baggage too."

"Oh, that's..." Meredith smiled slightly. "The man needs space."

"The man needs to get laid and get over all the shit Addison put on him," Mark insisted.

"He doesn't want to get laid. Does it even occur to you to care what he wants?"